


Doctor, Doctor

by silentdescant



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Ass Play, M/M, Masturbation, Medical Kink, Sexual Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-20
Updated: 2015-01-20
Packaged: 2018-03-08 09:14:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3203885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silentdescant/pseuds/silentdescant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The doctor looks down at his file before even glancing at Dean and says, "Mr. Winchester, I'm Dr. Sexy. I understand you've been concerned about your erections."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Doctor, Doctor

**Author's Note:**

> My friend fandom_yaness suggested I write some mild medical kink and Dr. Sexy was the first character to pop in my head. So this is for her.

Dean shifts uncomfortably on the bed, feeling exposed even though he's still fully dressed and sitting normally. One of those awful backless hospital gowns rests, folded neatly, on the cushion beside him, but Dean's not touching it unless absolutely necessary. There are no magazines or anything, and not even crappy informational posters on the walls, just a plain, blue cabinet and a rack to hold file folders or clipboards, currently empty. He swings his feet, the heels of his boots tapping against the drawers under the bed, and wrings his hands for lack of anything else to keep him occupied.

Just when he feels like he's about to lose his mind, the door swings open and a tall, long-haired man in a doctor's lab coat and incongruous cowboy boots strides in. He's almost as tall as Sam, and the similarities don't end there. He has Sam's ridiculous flowing locks and a broad, muscled chest and trim, narrow waist like Sam. He's older than Dean's brother, though, and older than Dean too, and the heavy stubble on his face is peppered with grey.

The doctor looks down at his file before even glancing at Dean and says, "Mr. Winchester, I'm Dr. Sexy. I understand you've been concerned about your erections."

Dean boggles at the doctor, too shocked by his bluntness to be embarrassed. "Concerned about my... yeah, okay, fine. Yeah. I've been, uh... concerned."

Dr. Sexy finally looks up from the file and narrows his eyes at Dean. "You're not undressed. Why are you not undressed?"

"I didn't know you wanted me to," Dean grumbles.

"Take off your clothes and put on the gown. It's there for a reason. Unless you'd prefer to be naked," the doctor instructs him with cold detachment.

He turns away from Dean, but not to give him any privacy while he undresses. He opens a drawer beneath the small countertop and pulls out a pair of blue gloves and stretches them over his hands with two sharp snaps that make Dean flinch. Dean gets to work on his bootlaces, picking at the knots with nervous, trembling fingers. The embarrassment has caught up to him in full force, and his face flushes, either from that or from leaning over. Once Dean finishes with his shoes, he sits up and sees that Dr. Sexy has placed a bottle of clear liquid on the counter, along with three small metal items, varying slightly in shape. Deep down, past the nervousness, the sight of these metal objects makes Dean tingle with an electric sort of excitement, but he doesn't understand why.

The doctor has turned around to face him again and Dean hops off the bed to undo his jeans. He turns away as he slides them down his legs, showing the doctor his back. Dean flushes again as he plucks the jeans and underwear off his left foot, partly due to being bent double and partly due to, well, being bent double naked. He saves his shirt for last but makes quick work of it, wrenching both the t-shirt and flannel over his head together in one motion. Dean decides against the crinkly hospital gown and instead hoists himself back onto the bed to resume his previous seated position.

Dr. Sexy sighs. "If you want me to examine you, you'll have to lie down."

Dean obediently lies back and scoots up so that his head rests on the hard pillow. He stares up at the salt and pepper ceiling tiles so he doesn't have to watch the doctor look at him with that intense, purposeful gaze. After a few awkward seconds of indecision, Dean laces his fingers over his belly and tries to appear comfortable in his nudity.

"I'm going to touch you now," the doctor warns him, not even half a second before he follows through. Gloved fingers wrap around Dean's flaccid cock, gently positioning it against his thigh. "What seems to be the trouble, Dean? Can't get hard?"

That's definitely not the trouble. Dean's soft cock fattens in the doctor's hand. It won't be long before he's fully hard, if Dr. Sexy continues handling him. Dean flushes again, all the way down to his chest, and this time he doesn't have gravity to blame for the rush of blood.

"I see," Dr. Sexy murmurs. "Then you have trouble getting rid of your erection after orgasm? Do you take any... supplements? Any enhancement medications?"

"That's not... quite... the issue," Dean replies hesitantly.

"Well, I've ruled out getting hard and getting soft again, so please, Dean, enlighten me."

"I can't come," Dean whispers.

"What was that?"

"I can't come. I can't... orgasm. Not for lack of trying, mind you. I've whacked off every night, sometimes in the mornings too, but for weeks now, I can't quite... get there."

The blood coloring Dean's cheeks drains quickly, filling his cock instead as Dr. Sexy begins stroking him with that careful, clinical grasp, like Dean is a science experiment. He's fully hard in moments, his dick standing at attention even when Dr. Sexy lets go to make a note in Dean's file.

"I see," the doctor muses. "Well, I have just the thing. This is an experimental treatment, but I've seen it work miracles. Don't be afraid."

Dean wasn't afraid until Dr. Sexy told him not to be, and now he's petrified. His fingers clench together and he digs his thumbs into his belly in an effort to keep still. He's here for a reason. He needs to be fixed. He can't bolt now.

He hears something metallic and lifts his head to see Dr. Sexy selecting one of the small objects he laid out earlier. He sticks one into the pocket of his lab coat and picks up the bottle of liquid, then takes a seat on his rolling stool and pushes himself over to Dean.

Dr. Sexy squirts some of the liquid--lubricant, Dean realizes--into his palm and resumes stroking Dean, spreading it around efficiently. The lube is cold, not helped by his gloved hands, but it heats up quickly with the steady friction. "The problem is not actually your cock, Dean, but your ass," Dr. Sexy explains. "I'm going to venture to guess you've never had anything stimulating you there, and Dean, you're obviously the type of man who really needs it."

Dean shakes his head but he's too shocked to speak. He follows the doctor's wordless instruction to widen his legs without thought, exposing his asshole. It's cold in this room, and this part of his body doesn't really get much exposure, and Dean shivers involuntarily. He hopes the doctor doesn't mistake it for fear. He is scared--well, more like apprehensive--but he doesn't want to show it.

"What do you mean, I need it?" Dean asks in a choked voice.

Dr. Sexy pours more lube onto his already slick, blue-coated fingers and gently massages them against Dean's hole, over his perineum and halfway up the cleft of his ass, then around and around his hole again. It's calming, really, and it does feel nice to have that gentle pressure stroking him there, now that it's warmed up a little.

"This is your body's way of telling you that you need to get fucked," Dr. Sexy explains. He sounds like he's rolling his eyes in exasperation, but Dean can't bring himself to look because Dr. Sexy slips one finger into his ass right at that moment and Dean's eyelids flutter shut against his will.

It's a strange sensation, having a finger up his ass. It's just the tip, he can tell that much, and it doesn't hurt. It doesn't feel like much of anything, really, except present. Then Dr. Sexy pulls it out and comes back with two fingers, focusing on stretching Dean's hole with rhythmic, gentle thrusts that don't take his fingers very deep at all. Dean keeps his eyes closed through all of it, because it's almost a relief to have these feelings. His legs spread wider of their own accord and Dean thrusts his hips up lazily, even though the doctor's no longer touching his cock. It's still hard, curved up against his belly, almost touching Dean's interlocked hands, but it's not his place to touch himself. Not now. Not yet.

"What you really need can't be prescribed," Dr. Sexy tells him. "You need someone to fuck you on a regular basis. Unfortunately, that's entirely up to you. I can treat you right here in this office today, but this will happen again, Dean, and you'll have to figure it out for yourself. You can either have someone fuck you, or you can fuck yourself. That's what I'm going to show you today."

"What do you mean?" Dean asks breathily. He lifts his head and blinks a few times, and the doctor finally comes into focus. He's still got fingers in Dean's ass--three, now--but in his right hand, he holds up the small metal object. It's flared at one end and narrow at the other, and the metal glistens with lubricant. Without further ado, Dr. Sexy positions the object at Dean's hole and pushes it into his ass, all the way until the flared base is flush with Dean's now overheated skin.

"This type of toy will stretch you and keep you full," Dr. Sexy says. "But it's pretty small and won't give you the sensations you need. You still have to jerk your cock like normal. Go ahead, now."

Dean obediently extricates his right hand from his left and grasps his cock. It's slippery with lube and hot to the touch, and it's sensitive enough that he grasps it gingerly. He feels close already, just from having this toy in his ass.

"This toy is useful, but what I recommend is something longer, perhaps something curved. It will touch places inside you that will make manual masturbation unnecessary. For a man like you, Dean, that's really your best option."

Dean whines a little, the sound caught in his throat and held behind his teeth, and continues stroking himself. So close, so close, so close.

Dr. Sexy takes hold of the base of the toy again and thrusts it mechanically into him. The widest part of it catches on Dean's rim, stretching him with each thrust, but Dr. Sexy doesn't pull it all the way out. He keeps up the steady rhythm as Dean spirals higher and higher, closer and closer to orgasm.

"You could also get a toy with vibrations. It get the job done. But really, Dean, nothing will beat the relief of a man fucking you."

When Dean comes, it feels almost like an anticlimax. The relief is sweet and immediate, and his come soaks his hand and his belly, bottled up for so long during Dean's period of impotency, but Dr. Sexy's words ring in Dean's ears. There's something better than this. There's something he needs. And he does need it, he realizes. He needs it like he needs air. He needs to be fucked.

"Would you fuck me, please? Doctor?" Dean asks breathlessly. "Just to show me what it's like? Please?"

But the doctor is already shaking his head, his dark hair swinging around his ears. It reminds Dean of Sam, because shaking his head in exasperation or disappointment is something Sam does every damn day. "You have to find that out for yourself, Dean," Dr. Sexy says sternly. "I can't help you any more than I already have."

Dean groans, frustrated, and cradles his cock in his jizz-covered hand. The toy is still in his ass, but Dr. Sexy isn't moving it anymore. He wants to keep going, to try again. He wants more.

"Oh, and Dean," the doctor adds, raising his eyebrows pointedly. "It's time to wake up."

Dean's eyes fly open. He's instantly awake and alert, and mildly confused about his surroundings. He's in a motel room, not a doctor's office, and Sam is snoring on the bed opposite Dean's. It's the middle of the night, according to the digital clock beside him, and Dean's underwear is damp and sticky with come.

"Oh, fuck," Dean breathes. He doesn't want to move. He doesn't want to wake Sam up, doesn't want to be found like this. The dream is still affecting him, too: Dean's cock is still hard, and his ass aches with phantom sensations from the buttplug Dr. Sexy used on him. He hasn't had the opportunity to try one of those fancy toys, he's just made do with his fingers in the shower sometimes, but now he wants one. He wants to see what it's really like, to have a toy up his ass, fucking him. He remembers what the doctor--his own subconscious, really--said, though. Nothing will beat the relief that comes from a man fucking him.

Dean bites his lip and looks over at his sleeping brother. They live in each other's pockets; Sam will find any toys Dean collects. But sleeping with a guy, well... Sam wouldn't have to know who Dean goes home with on their nights off. Maybe when they get to the next town, Dean will give it a try.

 

 _fin_.


End file.
